


Danger Zone

by br0jangles, notwest



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, Guilt, M/M, Monster Hunter AU, Mutual Pining, Sibling Incest, Trans Dave Strider
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23617762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/br0jangles/pseuds/br0jangles, https://archiveofourown.org/users/notwest/pseuds/notwest
Summary: “What is it?” Dirk asks. Whatever it takes, they need to do it now, or they’re probably going to fucking die. “What do you need me to do?”"Not too much..." Dave says. They don't really have time for a whole lesson on this. It's time to act now and explain later.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Dirk Strider
Comments: 7
Kudos: 76





	Danger Zone

The tip had been vague. Something about a haunting in a graveyard. Sounded like it would be no big deal. Like it would probably be just some poor lost soul who needed a little push to move on. Not really the Strider motif, but they had the afternoon off anyway, so like, fuck it. They’ll check it out.

So imagine Dirk’s surprise, when they show up, and the air is thick with agony. He goes on high alert immediately, sword falling from his strife deck and into his hands. He sees visions of inky black and sharp smoke. Screaming voices and _fear._

His eyes snap to Dave, and they exchange a tense look. He can’t see what Dirk does, but it’s written all over his face, in a language that only Dave knows how to read.

Always in sync, they don’t miss a beat to start circling the cemetery. Dirk’s enhanced eyes scan the area, between headstones, behind trees. Shadows blend together, melt into the darkness of the night sky. He doubts himself for a moment, unsure if his own eyes are playing tricks on him, but then it hits him.

Literally, it hits him. He’s knocked back several feet by something vague but undeniably solid. His adrenaline spikes, and terror permeates all the way through him and into his bones. He’s quite literally _chilled,_ as his vision floods with flashes of his worst nightmares.

He sees himself, on his knees, with a blade to his throat. Cutting into him, ice cold, numb, vertigo, he can’t feel his body. He sees Dave, lying in a pile of his own blood and viscera. Black sludge oozing from every open wound. Making him move. Bits of him, a mockery of life, like a puppet, he’s smiling, jesus, he’s--

Dirk snaps himself out of it with a violent gasp for air. His eyes are wide and frantic as he zeroes in on Dave, very much alive and just standing there, giving him a _What the fuck, bro?_ eyebrow quirk.

“It’s not what we thought,” is all Dirk manages to say. At least, he _hopes_ those were fake visions. There’s no way a simple call on a graveyard haunting could go so sour for them. They’re too good at this to be taken down so easily.

His heart slows from _racing_ to _only slightly panicked_ just in time to see Dave’s feet get swept out from under him. Cold dread settles in his stomach as he watches Dave be yanked into the air by one ankle by _what._ He still can’t even see the fucking thing.

He narrows his eyes at the nothing, until something starts to come into focus. Curling nightmare black. Eyes. The screams of trapped souls. What in the actual fuck. He has to _focus_ to keep it in focus, and soon it becomes too much effort for what it’s worth. Dave is more important at the moment.

He slices through the air, but nothing happens. He strikes again and again, but faint black clouds simply swish past his blade. The air sounds like it’s laughing at him. Mocking him. Pulling him in. Luring him into something breathless and calm.

He elects to just fucking grab Dave and pull and-- it works. They need to get the fuck out of there. Run. Run fast as fuck. It’s still laughing at them as they retreat.

He grips Dave by the wrist and pulls him along as fast as his legs will take him, but it’s following them. He can _feel it_ under his skin.

“What the FUCK is that thing,” he asks. Running is pointless. There’s nowhere to go. He stops and falls back into a fighting stance. Sword gripped in both hands. “Dave, I can’t see it,” he says. “It’s fucking with me. We need to come up with something _now.”_

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was supposed to be _easy._

When he's fast enough he can see it. Dave jumps up in a flash and slices through a smoky, slimy tendril before it can take hold of Dirk's arm. On the way down he's almost too slow to dodge a tombstone and nearly breaks several vertebrae on the moss covered slab labeled Mary Abrahms. Of course his sword does exactly jack shit to the _thing_ they're facing; the tendril instantly reforms and whips him across the face, sending Dave sprawling onto the muddy patch of a fresh grave. 

It's incredibly fitting that they're fighting this weird shadowy spirit monster in a graveyard. What isn't fitting, though, is how little energy Dave has in his reserves for this shit. They really hadn't planned for an intense session today and he's seriously scraping the bottom of the barrel here, stamina wise. With each subsequent move Dave can literally feel how slow his reaction time is getting. 

Dave doesn't think Dirk has noticed (yet), and there's nothing else to do but to keep moving. It's not like Dave has much choice in terms of taking a break for a quick pick-me-up right now, either, especially not the kind of pick-me-up he needs. Not to mention the fact that Dirk still doesn't know the details about Dave's particular… method of recharging. 

Dirk's affected too. It might not be as obvious to some, but Dave can only imagine the types of terrifying realities his brother is seeing in his head right now. Seeing as how this thing is all about some kind of horror brain fuckery bullshit, it clearly has a better hold on Dirk, which puts even more pressure on Dave to figure out how they're gonna come out of this not dead.

"Okay," Dave agrees as he steps into formation with Dirk, sword raised. His chest feels tight; it's been so long since he's felt this disoriented in a fight, and even longer since he's seen Dirk the same way. "I can kinda see it when I run. If you lead, I can hold him off long enough for us to get the fuck out of here." 

At least, Dave hopes. He's got enough juice left to get them out of this place. He has to.

Dirk is used to seeing Dave take a hit. He’s seen worse, he’s seen _much_ worse, and he’s positive that Dave will be able to walk it off. But panic spikes his heart anyway, and it feels like it’s hooked up to a thousand watt amp.

As real as it feels, it’s unnatural. He knows Dave is fine. He already saw Dave shake it off and jump back up, but in his mind, he sees Dave with legs broken and mangled, bones jutting from skin, screaming, _folding._

Something thrills with excitement, like it knows Dirk can’t stand to see Dave hurt. Like it’s found his weakness already, so quickly and so easily. The world around him fogs with blackness and shows him Dave in various states of distress. It gets a little over enthusiastic, though (or maybe Dirk just sees too much, who knows) and it starts to overlap with others.

He sees faces. Pain. Fear. Sickness. Mourning families. Dirt. Cold and nothingness.

He can _taste_ death and ash on his tongue.

Whatever this monster is, it must be affecting the souls at rest here. Consuming them. Absorbing them. Stealing them. Who fucking cares.

Dirk tries to let it roll off him, but he can’t seem to shake the haze from his vision. He suddenly realizes that he can’t feel his arms or his legs. He can’t find his voice.

Shit.

He’s trapped in his own mind, with a constant play by play of hundreds of deaths. Of Dave. Of Dave’s pains, his terrors, his deaths. 

Wow this kind of fucking sucks.

As hard as he tries to power through it, he can’t. He can’t break it. He needs to put some distance between himself and this _thing._ How the fuck is he supposed to get out of here? Hopefully Dave gets the fucking memo and does something, and fast.

This is not good.

Dave’s heart is racing as Dirk just stands there, completely unresponsive to the things Dave said and looking terrified down to his core.

A chill settles under his skin when he realizes. It’s fucking torturing him. 

Dave stands in place too, his mind momentarily blanking on anything that isn’t _help Dirk,_ before he’s being dealt an invisible blow, this one to the stomach.

Dave should have seen that coming, but instead he could barely swing his sword in time. He’s thrown back on his ass and hit again before he can get up. It’s different this time; it feels like an icy fist through his stomach. 

He has to see. 

Dave flashes back and forth, fast enough that the thing appears before him… and over him—it's draped the graveyard like a misery tinted dome. 

Dave looks down and sees one dripping, smoky tendril going straight through his stomach. 

It’s all consuming. Dave feels like he can’t _breathe_ , let alone think—is this what Dirk’s been feeling this entire time? 

It feels like death itself is surrounding Dave, filling his lungs with inky black. He's not sure how long it is until the air clears and he’s on all fours, trying to control his heaving stomach on shaky arms. Feverish sweat beads his forehead. 

Dirk. 

He needs to save Dirk. Their best option, maybe their only option that doesn't involve a swift death is Dave picking Dirk up and flashing them out of here. He doesn't even ask, just hoists Dirk over his shoulder and takes off. 

It works… until it doesn't.

Dave's entire body gives out, like a car sputtering to death. Dirk suddenly also feels like a car. Dave's knees buckle, bringing them both to the ground.

Terror and guilt flood Dave's senses and his eyes sting with the threat of tears, on top of it all. How could he have let this happen? To himself, but more importantly to Dirk?

It's always been Dirk and Dave against the world. Against evil monsters, shitty people, goddamn federal taxes. Dirk's power might not be as flashy as Dave’s, but it only makes the things he does all the more impressive. Every time Dave has ever needed Dirk (and even the times he thought he didn’t) Dirk has been there. Dirk is Dave’s stability. Dirk is his everything. 

“We gotta hide,” he says, dragging Dirk into the nearest shelter he can find. It’s a mausoleum, made of crumbling and ancient stone. 

It already feels better in here, out of contact with the thing outside. The sanctuary won’t last long though, and Dave knows there’s only one chance, one way they’re gonna get out of here. Dirk will just have to understand. 

Dave bolts the thin wooden door and spins around. The building is small, with just one tomb inside. 

“Dirk, listen to me,” Dave says, stepping forward and putting his hands on Dirk's shoulders. Dave hasn’t gotten control of his breathing, or the fear that’s making his body shake, and now his guts are squirming with something completely different at the prospect of what needs to get done. “My power, it’s… Look, I’m on E right now and I gotta get us out of here. I gotta get _you_ out of here but I need something and this time it’s gotta be you. I gotta recharge my shit.” 

One of Dave’s hands slides up to Dirk’s neck, thumb brushing along the sharp line of his jaw. Dave’s heart feels like it’s trying to escape his body but he ignores it, stepping forward and pressing Dirk to the wall behind him. “Do you understand me?”

Dirk can only faintly feel the hands on him. The heft of his own body over Dave’s shoulder. The only thing that makes him sure that it’s Dave is his own intuition. It just… feels like Dave. He’d know his brother anywhere, sensory deprivation be damned.

The wooden door slamming shut echoes through his mind and shatters the hold the monster has on him. He snaps back to reality, and he’s left gasping and wobbly on his own two legs. Whether the thing’s influence can’t reach through the door, or it’s only toying with him still, he’s not sure, but the only thing that’s important is he can _breathe_ again.

He’s reeling as his eyes struggle to adjust back to reality. Images of Dave’s mangled body and echoes of his screams still vibrate through him, but he shoves it down. He doesn’t have time to unpack all that shit right now, he’s sure they’re not done fighting.

Dave’s voice further grounds him. It’s more of a comfort than it’s ever been, just to know that Dave is with him, beside him, alive and breathing. As Dave touches him, boxes him in, his thudding heart begins to relax. He doesn’t notice the way Dave’s voice strains or the way his hands shake. He doesn't understand the resolve in Dave’s eyes.

“What is it?” he asks. His brows stick together as the comfort subsides, and the gravity of the situation really slams into him. He just totally fucking lost himself to that monster’s games, and there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do about it. 

Dave is right. They need to get the fuck out of here, and Dirk is going to be useless to help. They need to regroup and come back with a real plan. It’s up to Dave. And he knows that Dave’s power can be fickle, but he’s always been cagey about explaining how it works.

Whatever it takes, though, they need to do it _now._ or they’re probably going to die. 

“What do you need me to do?” 

Dave pushes Dirk's sunglasses up, relieved to see some clarity back in his eyes. He hadn't even noticed that his own sunglasses were gone, probably crushed outside somewhere from the thrashing.

"Not too much," he says. He lets his other hand rest in the juncture between Dirk's neck and shoulder, focusing on the heat of his skin, stepping closer, closer. They don't really have time for a whole lesson on this. It's time to act now and explain later. 

Dave's heart is pounding and his mouth is dry, but he's more than ready to get the show on the road. As far as Dave is concerned, fear and boners are never too far away from each other.

He takes Dirk's hand and brings it up to his face quickly, sucking the fingers into his mouth sloppily, making sure to leave them nice and wet. It literally tastes like dirt, but you do what you gotta do when there's a giant, deadly spirit monster huffing and puffing at your door.

Then he fits his hand over the back of Dirk's and guides them into his pants and where he needs it most, right between his legs. He hisses out an exhale as he uses Dirk's slick fingers to spread himself open, bucks his hips to desperately grind his clit against their hands in a steady rhythm. This won't take long. Dave's always been overly sensitive, and this has been in his top ten jerk-off fantasies since exactly forever. Okay maybe not this, exactly, but _Dirk._

This isn't about what Dave wants, though. They just need to do this, so they can get their asses out of dodge and then they can never speak of it again, if that's what Dirk wants. 

"Sorry," Dave says in a sudden rush of guilt, ducking his head into Dirk's neck. He won't look up, won't require Dirk to even give him a reaction. "I—ahhhnn—need this to recharge… never meant for you to be involved. M'sorry—ahhh..."

Dirk still doesn’t understand, as Dave starts to suck on his filthy fingers. He watches with furrowed brows. He isn’t fucking prepared for the way it makes his stomach leap up into his throat.

Or the way it makes his cock jump.

It happens in slow motion as he watches Dave take his hand, wetness shining on his own fingers and on Dave’s puffy, pink lips. Down. Down. Holy fucking shit, his hand is in Dave’s pants. _He’s touching Dave’s junk right now isn’t he holy shit what--_

His fingers go stiff in his panic, like he can stop it from happening even as Dave grinds against them. He’s so _wet,_ what the fuck, why is that so hot-- no it’s not hot, it’s Dave, it’s his little brother, it’s…

“Dave,” he chokes out. He’s smart enough to realize that he doesn’t have the _time_ to sort this shit out with himself. Obviously this is serious, or Dave never would have started it.

Still. The way his dick is hardening between them is more than a little unsettling.

He forces himself to relax. Focus. What are the facts? 1) Dave needs a powerup. 2) Dave needs to cum.

Make him cum.

“I can’t believe you kept this from me,” he says breathlessly. It comes out in hot puffs in Dave’s ear, where Dave’s face is still tucked into his neck. It’s only been a few seconds, but he finally catches up and starts touching Dave with more intent. He can feel how hard Dave’s clit is, fuck, it’s-- _focus._ He doesn’t have time to figure out exactly what it is that makes Dave tic, so he digs into it with his palm, rubbing.

“Tell me how to touch you,” he demands. If Dirk doesn’t know what gets Dave off, the only one to ask is Dave.

“Sorry bro,” Dave says again. “Wasn’t exactly hype to bring it up over the… _Ahhh,_ morning paper.”

Dave still hasn’t picked his head up. Dirk’s not pushing Dave away though, he’s not shouting about how he’d rather be dead than touch Dave like this, and even though that bar’s so low Danny Devito would have trouble playing limbo, it’s gotta be good enough for now. 

Dave nods at Dirk’s order, still grinding in tight movements against Dirk’s fingers, forehead pressed against his neck. Due to the non-regulation setup he’s packing, he’s pretty used to ordering people around. The truth is, Dave could absolutely come like this—because of course Dirk picked up Dave’s movements immediately and is now using his palm to rub into Dave’s clit in that perfect way that threatens to make his knees wobble—but he’s burning all over and aching now for something inside him and yes they’re in mortal peril but Dirk’s hand is already _right there._ Dave rocks his hips desperately, swallowing again and again around his cotton mouth, silencing every moan his brother’s perfect fingers threaten to drag up out of him. 

Dave relocates both hands to the back of Dirk’s neck, where they cling like anchors. “Finger me— _fuck_ —please,” he breathes. 

Dave frees his hand, and suddenly the entire dynamic shifts. Suddenly, he’s _choosing_ to keep his hands on Dave. It was easier to stomach, with Dave’s hand keeping his down, but now… Now he’s faced with the fact that his blood is _still_ pounding in his ears, and he’s _still getting hot over this._

It’s exhilarating. It’s _wrong._ It threatens to make his hands shake, because… because it’s not like he’s never pictured this. Alone in his room at night. Wishing it were his brother’s hot, tight little hole wrapped around him instead of his fist.

Guilt weighs on the lump in his throat and it hurts to swallow around it. He can’t enjoy this. Not like this, not when Dave is this weak. It would be taking advantage. It’s not like Dave wants this, they’re literally going to fucking die if they don’t do it.

A loud, shuddering bang at the door reminds him heavily of exactly what situation they’re in.

He stops hesitating. The shift is easy, while his palm rubs steadily over Dave’s hard on, to let two fingers slip between wet folds. “I’ve got you,” he assures quietly. This is the least he can do, considering how useless he was out on the field just now. 

He slips one finger in, followed quickly by the next. He falls in line with his own steady rubbing, letting his digits fuck into Dave. He curls into the hot, soft wall and rubs just as mercilessly. He’s good at staying calm in high pressure situations, and even if he hates himself right now, every move he makes is calculated. Chosen specifically for maximum results.

Dave moans when Dirk’s fingers slip inside him, his mouth moving before he can stop it. It’s like a floodgate; after that the soft noises don’t stop as he presses his chest to Dirk’s and humps down on the fingers pressing into him just right. He’s so close. 

Dave really wasn’t prepared for the way Dirk works him so damn well from the inside out, though he should have been. Of course Dirk would be able take Dave apart on only a few fingers. He lets out another lewd groan and his face stings hot with shame, because what is Dirk _thinking._

Dave pulls back, hips still working frantically, to meet Dirk’s eyes. He can’t read the expression but they burn back at him intensely as ever. _I’ve got you_ , he’d said. Because that’s what Dirk does. He’s Dave’s comfort, his stability. 

It’s that soft shit that does it, in the end. Dave’s face splits in half as his body seizes and he reaches his peak, gasping and rutting against Dirk in sharp thrusts. 

“Fuck, Dirk…” Dirk’s name leaves his mouth in an embarrassing whine, one that Dave never thought would leave the darkness of his own bedroom. He averts his eyes, throwing his head back as he shakes against Dirk, riding the aftershocks and feeling power surge through his body. 

Dave’s desperate, cute little noises are more than that. Theyre fucking hot, and it’s becoming more than a little bit of a struggle for Dirk to repress his own reactions to them. Dave pulling back to meet his eyes only makes it worse, it makes his fucking heart stop. Can Dave see how affected he is? Is it obvious how much of a disgusting freak he is for loving every second of jerking his little brother off in the middle of a crumbling tomb?

He manages to keep his cool, at least he thinks he does, until Dave is moaning his name and trembling into him. He’s _glowing_ through his orgasm, literally. He can see the power enveloping him and soaking into him, and it’s-- cool. He's never seen it happen before (and now he knows why) and it's fascinating.

But the fascination dies quickly in the wake of another pulse of arousal when Dave’s pussy flexes and spasms in the palm of Dirk’s hand, around his fingers, and every inch of Dirk’s body aches with it. Any bit of restraint that had been keeping his arousal down goes out the fucking window and his cock stands painfully hard in his own pants.

His fingers are _coated_ with slick, his hand dampened, and damn it all, keep it together Dirk. Don’t fucking think about how it tastes, don’t even think about it. Just-- just let him go. Logic is telling him to pull his hand out of Dave’s pants, but he’s frozen in his place. He can’t even make himself pull his fingers out, where they’re now _dripping_ with Dave’s slick. He can feel Dave’s body still rumbling with aftershocks and he…

He doesn’t know what to do with that information. He knows what he wants to do. He knows what he _shouldn’t_ do. He knows what they don’t have time for.

Slowly, reluctantly, he starts to pull his hand away. “Are you good?” he asks. He’s shocked by how steady it is. All professional, no dirty incestuous greed to be acknowledged. The thing bangs on the door again, and he rips his eyes away from Dave’s to watch the door quake on it’s hinges. “Sorry this is all the help I can be. I was dead in the water out there.”

The moment Dirk pulls his hand away is when Dave finally notices the hard cock pressed against him. Lust flares through him, renewed and ravenous.

Is Dirk into this? Every molecule in Dave's body is saying _yes._ Dave stares at Dirk's face, panting, watching the way his lips are parted slightly, eyes widened just so. He's into this. Or maybe Dave's just seeing what he wants to see. 

Either way, Dave estimates that about a third of his power is back. It always takes more effort to fill himself from zero and thirty percent is about how much he started with today. As results have shown, it won’t be nearly enough. He could try, but to be safe...

"I’m almost there but... I need more," Dave says, shocked by how low and needy his voice comes out. He pulls Dirk's hand to his mouth and sucks the taste of himself off his brother's fingers. It's dirty as fuck, literally and figuratively, but Dave is all need and adrenaline and fuck-fueled powers; all he can think about is _more._ Dirk's mouth on his, his cock buried deep inside Dave— _fuck._

In a flash of his power Dave spins Dirk around by the hips, pushing him backward and down against the nearby tomb. He watches Dirks tongue swipe over his lips and suddenly _aches_ to feel it on him. 

And with the way Dirk is draped over the tomb, arms spread to catch himself, his mouth is the perfect height to well, sit on. 

“Not to just stick my junk in your face but it'll take too long if we try hand stuff again," Dave explains, while shimmying his pants down his ass. He brings one hand back up to cup himself tight, dragging his fingers through thick curls and hot, slick folds, helplessly following his own hand with his hips. Dave could swear he’s never felt this horny in his life, and he's spent a good while of it being fucked every type of way to keep his powers up. He inches up as close as he can get to Dirk’s face without actually touching it. 

"Please," Dave says, trying not to make it sound like he's begging even though he absolutely is. _“I need you.”_

Fuck. _Fuck._

Watching Dave steal the slick from his fingers with his tongue sends another jolt of heat through Dirk that he doesn’t want to acknowledge, but fucking hell, it’s so fucking hot. Maybe if he kissed Dave, he’d get a taste of it, too…

Of course Dave isn’t done, though. Of course he needs more. Of course Dirk is going to have to suffer through even more of this. He’s not going to be able to hide how fucking into it he is for very much longer, if Dave doesn’t already know.

He’s the worst older brother in the entire fucking world.

His self loathing only multiplies when he comes face to face with Dave’s naked junk. His heart _pounds_ in his veins and he can _feel_ his own cock leaking as it jumps again.

And then Dave begs that _he needs him_ and Dirk actually fucking moans. The smell of Dave’s arousal is overwhelming, and he can’t stop himself from hooking his arms under Dave’s thighs and hefting him up to mouth level. He sucks Dave’s little candy-sized cock right into his mouth and hollows his his cheeks around it without hesitation. He rolls his tongue over it in eager spirals as he lowers himself back over the tomb. 

He lands on his back with Dave knelt over his face. His hands squeeze at the tops of Dave’s thighs and hold him close as he buries his nose in little blonde curls. Fuck. He tastes so fucking good. Dirk momentarily forgets all about the death-threat literally knocking at their door as he lets himself get lost in it.

For a moment, he lets himself live the fantasy. That Dave wants this. That Dave needs him because he _wants him_ and not because it’s fucking life or death. Indulgently, he lets go of Dave’s clit with a slick _pop_ and licks down between his folds. Wet collects on his tongue and he swallows it down without a second thought. He digs his tongue into Dave’s finger-stretched hole and lets the hot breath from his nose puff over Dave’s swollen hardon. 

He’s definitely going to hell for this. He’s going to end up just like that thing they’re currently trying to obliterate, and he’s going to deserve it.

Dave fucking loses his mind when Dirk straight up moans, _picks Dave's entire ass up_ and starts eating him out with—and there's no other way to put it—professional fucking enthusiasm. 

His hands fly to Dirk's hair, grabbing on for the ride as he's pitched forward and a hot, wet, mouth envelopes his most sensitive parts. He throws his head back when Dirk tongues around the head of Dave's engorged, sensitive dick and _sucks,_ shuddering and moaning like a porn star, like he wants the world to hear just how good his brother can give it to him. 

_Dirk is so fucking into it,_ his brain thinks frantically. The thought only fuels farther Dave as he whines and curses, fucking himself down on Dirk's tongue with indulgent rolls of his hips, mindlessly grinding his clit all over Dirk's face and completely forgetting about anything that's waiting for them outside of Dirk and the assault of his hot, eager mouth. 

Dave’s knees hurt where they're digging into the tomb but he could not give less of a shit. "Don't stop, don't stop, you’re so fucking good… Jesus, ahhh, _fuck,"_ he cries, Dirk's stupid gelled hair crunching under his fingertips as he grips it way too tightly. He hates the way it feels but at the same time it fills him with fire, reminds him who's massaging his thighs and giving him exactly what he needs in the most perfect way possible. 

What they both need, apparently. 

Dave’s voice echoes in Dirk’s ears in the most satisfying way; or maybe that’s the stone walls. The praise mixed with the stream of _’don’t stop’_ s is really fucking doing it for him. Dave likes it. Dave _likes it._ He fucking should, considering how many times Dirk’s dreamed about this. He should certifiably be an expert by now.

He lets Dave grind down on his face while he fucks his tongue up into his pussy. The tug in his hair spikes his arousal even higher, spreading out from his gut and landing squarely in his neglected dick. The desire to touch himself is starting to outweigh the fact that he’s supposed to pretending not to be into this.

It’s just the adrenaline, he reasons. Anyone would be hard in this situation. It’s definitely not because he wants to lick all the way up into Dave’s guts and let his thighs suffocate him. It’s not because the smell of him is clouding his thoughts and making him dizzy. It’s not because his moans are the hottest thing he’s ever heard in his fucking life.

He breaks to gasp for a breath, and the desperation in it shocks even himself. His eyes are hazy and dark as he latches onto Dave’s cock again, sucking around it with all the determination of a man on death’s doorstep. Dave _yanks_ on his hair, and that’s it, he can’t take it anymore.

One hand lets go of Dave’s thigh while the other digs nails into taut, toned muscle. He barely gets his button untone before he’s moaning into Dave’s heat again. He finally wraps his hand around his own cock and his whole body jerks. There’s no coming back from this anymore, he’s completely fucked, and completely head over heels for the boy on top of him.

"Diiiiiiirrk," Dave whines, rocking himself on Dirk's face at an even more frenzied pace as he starts to reach his peak. Everything's always a little sharper, more intense the second time around, white hot and desperate. 

When one of Dirk's hands disappears behind Dave and he realizes before even turning his head to see that Dirk's grabbing for his own cock—not to mention his moans holy shit—that's when Dave loses it. 

Dave yells when he comes, his body jerking foward so sharply he's sure he's gonna break Dirk's fucking nose, raw power coursing through him. Ah, fuck yes. He feels so good and _full,_ so taken care of. 

He feels like he could go again. Or maybe a million more times, as long as it's with Dirk. 

He throws an arm back, still shaking on Dirk’s mouth, blindly reaching because he needs to feel it, to feel the proof of how he's affected Dirk with his own hands. His hands smooth past Dirk's abs, over his pubes and finally their hands connect over his hard cock. 

The rattling at the door is like nothing compared to the roaring in Dave’s ears. “Fuck dude… You’re really into this,” he states in a heated whisper. 

Dirk’s eyes nearly roll back as Dave rides his fucking face to hell and back. Dave’s orgasm is _delicious,_ and he doesn’t dare stop sucking that perfect little cock until it’s over. Even after Dave starts to relax, it twitches on his tongue, he can feel it wracking Dave’s entire body. Convulsing, pulling him in.

Fucking hell.

Dave’s hand folding over his own around his dick shocks him, makes him thrust up sharply into it. Dave’s words sink in, and then so does the panic, because holy fucking shit, Dave knows he’s a freak. He _knows._

He refuses to answer Dave at first. He instead chooses to lick down between his folds again, playing a little bit of clean up-- at least that’s what he’ll say he was doing. He’s definitely not slurping down every last drop of Dave’s creamy filling in case he never gets another chance. He’s definitely not mapping it out, memorizing every dip and fold to lock away securely in his spank bank.

He gets his fucking shit together enough to finally pull away, but it’s only far enough to sink his teeth greedily into Dave’s thigh. He looks up, finally, to meet his brother’s eyes, and slowly legs go, but his lips never leave skin.

Excuse. He needs an excuse.

“Wasn’ sure if you’d need’t go again,” he says, his words thick with the obvious arousal laced into his Texan charm. “Was jus’ makin’ sure I’d be ready for you.”

He can’t help stroking himself, and Dave’s hand moves with his, and god fucking damnit. If Dave _does_ need to go again, he’s sure as hell not going to be able to last for very long. He’s hard as hell and leaking all over his own fist, he’ll embarrass the Strider out of himself how fuckin’ fast he’ll nut.

Of course he was. 

"Appreciate it," is all Dave can manage to say. He's nearly ready to go again at the implication of Dirk prepared and willing to fuck him; his mind temporarily clouds over with images of Dirk’s body covering his and their hips pressed together, grinding his hard cock against Dave’s soaked slit, teasing, before pushing inside. 

Fuck. He’s never going to get enough. Dave _aches_ , and he moves his hand over Dirk’s, working together to pump his dick rhythmically. He rolls his thumb over the tip and the wetness there makes his insides clench with need. It would be so easy to scoot back and sink down on his brother’s cock, to ride Dirk until he couldn’t deny anything anymore. 

But. The next rattle at the door makes Dave’s mind up for him as it finally busts open. It’s not actually the time to act out all of his wildest fantasies, considering the shadow monster currently staring them down once again. 

The deadly chill sinks into his bones as Dave lets his new power flow through his body, pulling up his pants in an instant and hoisting Dirk over his shoulder like he had earlier. No points for clean up, it's time to bounce. He bolts out into the inky black, heading for the cemetary exit like there's no tomorrow. 

It’s hard for Dirk to focus on anything solid that’s not the pelvis in his face or the hands wrapped around his dick. He would kill for any combination of things to happen right about now. Of _course_ he wants to fuck Dave, but he’d even be happy to just keep eating him out while he jacks himself off. While Dave _helps him jack off._

He’s halfway to pressing another kiss into Dave’s thigh (where he can see teeth marks, and fuck if that doesn’t do it for him too) when the door suddenly rattles off it’s hinges. There’s a loud _slam_ and then he has less than a second to mourn the loss of tongue-on-pussy action before Dave’s grabbed him up and split out the door.

Dave is always fast, but holy fuck he’s _fast_ now. The powerup Dirk gave him must have been a damn good one, and he’s proud as hell of that fact, until he can’t be anymore. Even as they run, the shadows fog through his mind again and start to pull him back under. Good thing Dave’s got this.


End file.
